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1LA1S AND FKJfiTEXTS
Mon front est rouge encor du baiser de la reine.
J'ai reve dans la grotte ou nage la Sirene, Et j'ai deux fois vainqueur traverse P Acheron, Modulant tour a tour sur la lyre d'Orphee Les soupirs de la sainte et les cris de la fee. GERARD DE NERVAL.
De Nerval's is an incantation of the ' A-kid-I-fell-into-
the-milk5 variety. His magic, like Darley's, is the magic of symbols and allusions^only the symbols are more esoteric than Barley's straightforward Phoenix, the allusions are not to a philosophy but to events in the private life, perhaps even in the dream life, of the poet. Darley only suffered from a soul-disfiguring stammer. Nerval was eccentric to the point of occasional madness. He ended his life hanging from a lamp-post. We divine in the obscure, private magic of the poem its author's suicidal loneliness and isolation. The Sur- realistes, and all those who without calling themselves by that name conform more or less completely to sur- realisie practice, have methodized Nerval's madness. The impenetrable magic of private allusion and dream symbol—this is their classical style. Gaze not on swans in whose soft breast
A full-hatched beauty seems to nest, Nor snow which, falling from the sky, Hovers in its virginity. Gaze not on roses, though new-blown,
Graced with a fresh complexion, Nor lilies which no subtle bee Hath robbed by Hssing-chemistry. 232 |
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